Who's Got You?
by bgharison
Summary: "You 'ave nightmares? From . . . stuff?" He paused, stroking a big hand over her hair. "Sometimes," he whispered. "So, 's'got you?" Even mostly asleep, Mary was stubborn and tenacious. He closed his eyes and held her close, and tried to convince himself that it didn't matter that he didn't have an answer.


Coda to Season 1 Episode 13

She'd held it together admirably, all things considered. And the look of pride on Steve's face, Kono's admiration - honestly, it made getting kidnapped worth it. Really worth it. She'd almost broken down at the soft touch of his callused finger, tilting her face up to examine the deepening bruise on her cheek, but she focused on telling him what she had done, who she had called.

"Stay here, do not leave this building," Steve had called out, at some point, before rushing out to follow up on a lead. So she'd puttered around his office, her fingers tracing over the awards and commendations on the walls. Milestones, accomplishments . . . none of which she had been aware of, much less witness to. She wondered if anyone had taken pictures, had taken him out for a beer after, to celebrate.

A text message came through at one point.

Food in breakroom. Don't leave building.

She had rolled her eyes and smiled, and found a surprisingly tasty cup of noodles to heat up in the microwave. Exhausted and full, she wandered back to Steve's office and curled up on his sofa.

"Mare? Hey. Mary?"

Steve's voice was soft, his fingers carefully brushing her hair away from her face.

"Hey," she rasped, struggling to sit up. Muscles that she didn't know even existed were aching. Her head was pounding.

Gentle fingers ghosted over her jaw as a white light seemed to explode behind her eyes.

"Ow," she protested, trying to turn her face away from the light.

"Hold still," Steve fussed, flashing a penlight into her eyes. "I couldn't get you to wake up, you scared me, Mare."

"I'm fine, just tired. It's been kind of a big day for me."

Steve chuckled at that. "I think you have a concussion. Come on, let's get you home."

"Finally," she groaned. "I want a shower. No, a bubble bath. No, first a shower, then a bubble bath."

"I'll see what I can do," he said, gently easing her off the sofa. "Would shower gel make bubbles?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I know I have shower gel, not sure about bubble bath," he said, his hand resting warm and solid on the small of her back, steering her to the elevator.

"Why -" Her brain wasn't keeping up as she shuffled along.

"Mare, you're coming home," he said. "Home. With me. There's no way I'm letting you stay alone."

She started to protest as the elevator doors slid closed, but his hands wrapped around her shoulders and he bent down, looking at her earnestly.

"It's not up for debate," he said. "I'll pull rank and put you in protective custody if it comes to that. With Mamo."

She raised her hands in surrender and leaned against him when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

There was a warm breeze blowing across her face.

"Mare? We're home."

Steve was standing at the open passenger door of his truck, reaching across her to unfasten her seatbelt.

"Already?" she asked. Her muscles were stiff again.

"You were asleep before we hit the highway. You snore, by the way."

"You lie."

Tears pricked hot and sharp behind her eyes as she made her way up the sidewalk and onto the front porch.

"I don't know how you do it," she said quietly, as he entered his updated security code and opened the door.

"Do what?" he asked absently, not bothering to pretend that he wasn't clearing the house as they entered.

"Stay here, where Dad was . . . I just - doesn't it bother you?"

He was silent as he set the alarm and locked the door.

"Yeah, sometimes," he said. "You still want dibs on the entire contents of the hot water heater?"

"Yes," she said firmly.

"Go on. I'll make us something to eat."

She padded down the hall, her hair dampening the collar of the Annapolis t-shirt she'd rummaged out of the laundry room.

"Cute," he said, grinning at her as he came out of the kitchen, carrying a tray. She followed him into the living room. "I made peanut butter and banana, I hope you still like it. Go ahead, I'm going to grab the first aid kit, patch your head back up."

She curled into a corner of the sofa and picked up a plate from the tray. Peanut butter and banana on wheat, the crusts cut off, the sandwich cut neatly into thirds.

Just the way she liked it, when she was ten, and still.

Tears were streaming down her face when he returned, a small kit clutched in his hand.

"Mare?" he called softly, rushing to the sofa. "What is it, what's wrong?"

She pressed her hand against her mouth and shook her head, trying to hold back the tears that had been threatening all day.

"Ah, kiddo," he whispered, dropping the kit onto the table and gathering her in his arms. He held her close, his hand cradling her head against his shoulder, just as he had when he'd pulled her from the trunk of the car earlier that day. "I've got you, it's okay."

"I'm sorry," she choked out.

"Sorry? What - no, what are you sorry for, hunh?"

"I didn't mean to cry, I'm not even really hurt that bad -"

"First of all, you do not ever need to apologize for crying, do you understand? And you did get hurt today," he said. "You were hit hard enough to split your forehead open, you took a solid hit to the jaw -" His voice started to shake as he recounted her injuries. "You got knocked out, your hands bound with duct tape, and thrown into the trunk of a car."

He pulled her close again and rocked her gently as she finally allowed herself to cry, hot tears splashing onto his neck as he rubbed gentle circles on her back. When she settled and leaned back, wiping her eyes and looking up at him, she was shocked to see his eyes, red and filled with unshed tears of his own.

"You came for me," she said, cupping his face in her small hand.

"But I could have lost you today," he whispered. "These men, they killed mom, they killed dad . . . they could have killed you. What if you hadn't had your phone, what if -"

"I did, though, and you got to me," she repeated. "And I'm okay, Steve, I am. I messed up, I asked too many questions."

"And got us closer to answers than I did," he said. "You really are something else, Mary. I'm so proud of you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. And Dad would be, too."

She smiled at him as he brushed the last of the tears from her cheeks.

"Your head's bleeding, let me take care of it," he said. She sat still as his impossibly gentle fingers dabbed antiseptic cream onto the abrasion and then covered it neatly with a clean square of gauze. "There. All set. You knocked a guy's tooth out?"

"Self-defense classes are big in LA," she said, shrugging.

"So, you're like a freaking ninja?" he teased.

"Like my big brother," she said.

"I've missed so much of your life," he said. He took her hands in his, one at a time, and gently rubbed more antiseptic cream into the red, broken skin there.

"I didn't know you had so many awards. From the Navy," she said. "I mean, I knew you were kind of a big deal but . . ."

He was silent for a long moment, and when he finally looked at her, his eyes were filled with regret.

"Mary," he started.

She knew, then, she knew what he was going to say.

"I can't stay, can I?" she whispered.

"I will make Oahu safe for you," he promised, "and the minute it's safe, I will send for you and bring you back. I can't - I can't risk losing you. I can't."

She nodded and swallowed around the lump in her throat. His fingers brushed over the bruise on her jaw again.

"You understand?" he asked softly.

"Yeah. I understand," she said. "We both do, now."

She opened her eyes in the dark, her head pounding. Raw, unadulterated panic wrapped cold fingers around her throat, and in a fleeting moment she was back, bound and helpless in the trunk of a moving car.

"Steve!"

He was by her side before the sound of her scream had faded from her own ears.

"I'm here, Mary, you're safe," he said, as he scooped her up out of her childhood bed just as he had the night that their mother was killed.

She winced as he shifted her in his arms and carried her to the living room, a pillow and blanket on the sofa and a soft lamp glowing.

"Are you hurting?" he asked.

"You slept out here?"

"Yeah, I wasn't taking any chances. What hurts?" he repeated, placing her gently on the sofa.

She sighed and leaned her head against the cushion. "Everything. You must think I'm -"

"I think you engaged in close quarter combat this morning," he said. "You held your own, but you're going to be stiff, sore. Like . . . after a car wreck, when you hurt more the next day."

"That's exactly what I feel like," she groaned.

He smiled down at her sympathetically, absently rubbing the back of his neck as he snagged a bottle of Motrin off the end table and offered it to her, along with his glass of water.

She took two tablets and then looked up at him.

"Wait. Why are you taking this?"

He settled into the sofa and spread the blanket over both of them. She tucked into his side and rested her aching head on his shoulder.

"When those guys busted in here this morning -"

"They took my key!" she remembered suddenly.

"When those guys unlocked the door and walked in here this morning," he amended, "they tased me. Knocked me flat on my face."

She patted his knee sympathetically.

"Go back to sleep," he murmured, kissing the top of your head. "I've got you."

She curled against him and closed her eyes. He could feel her breathing even out, and then slow.

"S've?"

"Hmm?"

"'S'got you?" she mumbled.

"Shh. I'm fine, Mary, go to sleep."

A few moments passed.

"S've?"

He smiled into the darkened living room.

"Yes, Mare?"

"You 'ave nightmares? From . . . stuff?"

He paused, stroking a big hand over her hair.

"Sometimes," he whispered.

"So, 's'got you?" Even mostly asleep, Mary was stubborn and tenacious.

He closed his eyes and held her close, and tried to convince himself that it didn't matter that he didn't have an answer.

He'd held it together admirably, all things considered. And the soft smile of appreciation and affection on Mary's face made it all totally worth it. He managed to flash a smile and a shaka to her before turning and fleeing from the airport.

He kept the emotions at bay by immersing himself in the photos that Mary - clever, brave Mary - had taken. He let Danny's news of Koji's death distract him, fuel him with purpose, pushing the hurt and the pain down underneath.

He would have gotten away with it, too, had Danny not shown up at his house, looking tired and disheveled in sweat pants and a NYFD t-shirt.

"Danny?" Steve asked, confused, pulling out his phone. No missed calls or texts. "We get another lead?"

"No, we are fresh out of new revelations and stunning leads for the day," Danny said. "And no new kidnappings, either, just to put your mind at ease."

"Okay, then . . . not to be inhospitable, but it's late, and I'm really tired," Steve said. He gestured at Danny's rumpled appearance. "And I'm sure you are."

"It's been a long, hard couple of days," Danny agreed. He held out a six pack of Longboards. "Thought you might need to unwind a bit."

Steve hesitated. His plan had been to spend at least another hour looking over the evidence and then throw back a few shots of whiskey so that he wouldn't have to think about anything else.

"You hear from Mary?" Danny's soft question interrupted his thoughts. "She get back to LA safe? She okay?"

"Yeah," Steve sighed.

"She was really something," Danny said. "Kinda figured she had it in her, you know? It's the short sassy ones you really have to look out for. They slip in under the radar and pow."

Steve looked down at him, at the person who'd had his back every minute of the last two harrowing days. Danny, filling a bag with ice for the base of his skull, throbbing from the taser, Danny, ranting about procedure and keeping him from going off the rails; Danny, keeping him steady, keeping him from sheer and utter panic; Danny, leaping from the Camaro to take down Mary's kidnappers.

"Mary was kidnapped," Steve blurted out.

"Yeah, babe," Danny said. "Terrifying."

Steve lifted shaky hands to rub over his face. "You saw me through it, Danny. I woulda lost it without you today."

Danny's hands wrapped strong and warm around his biceps.

"I'm your backup, of course I saw you through it," Danny said. "What, you think I'm some schmuck, don't understand how you feel about your baby sister? Come'ere, sit down before you fall down."

Steve let Danny guide him to the sofa. He rubbed irritably at his eyes again, knowing full well that he was fooling Danny exactly not one bit.

"I almost lost her today. You were here. I wouldn't have wanted anyone else to go through the last two days with me."

Danny nodded, his blue eyes locking steadily onto Steve's.

"I didn't want anyone else," Steve said. "Just you."

Danny nodded again.

"I don't want anyone else," Steve said slowly. "Just . . . you."

Danny opened his arms, and Steve collapsed against him.

"I was so scared," Steve murmured, pressing his face into Danny's neck. "You picked up that tooth, Danny, I - " Tremors racked his tense muscles and Danny held on tight, strong hands rubbing circles over Steve's shoulders. "They destroyed my family. They killed our mother, tore our family apart, they orphaned Mary."

"Not just Mary," Danny whispered. "We're going to take them down. I promise you. We're going to see this thing through. I'm with you. You're not alone now. I've got you."


End file.
